AN: I have posted a few fic before with a different screen name and email which I couldn't get into. Mostly fluffy bunny stuff for BtVS. Now, older, the FSOG realm intrigues me. Please keep in mind that I have not written in awhile and have no clue what I'm going to do with this story. This story is a thought I've had in the back of my mind. I read all three books right as soon as they came out and am now listening to them on audio. I love it again a second time around. Positive and constructive feedback is appreciated. Please don't send hateful messages or nasty feedback. Don't like it, don't read it. Slightly AU as there are no kids just yet. Wish me luck.

Everything belongs to E.L. James. Just borrowing.

Ana's POV

He...wha...how? I sit here baffled and exhausted at the same time. I lay here and I keep running through this in my mind over and over. One minute I'm angry, the next I'm sobbing uncontrollably and then the next I'm laughing like a lunatic. What in the *hell* could Christian Grey see in me, anyway? I'm just a "regular" person. Not apart of the rich world or BDSM world. I should have known it was all too good to be true. Someone loving me. I asked him to punish me. See how bad it could get. I knew deep down I couldn't really handle it. I just wanted to touch him, be the one he could lean on. Be what he was to me. His mood changed so much and it hurt so much. I say that a lot when it comes to him "too much".

'But you said it was okay, dumbass', my subconscious reminds me.

I never want to feel what I felt in that room ever again. After I left that room and had my good cry we had a moment where I thought I would stay. Until he said he should let me go and was so frightened that I said I'd fallen in love with him. He begged me to stay and that confused me. What else would I do? There was no way I was staying.

I still feel numb. Like my short time with Christian was like watching a movie on fast-forward. My eyes are swollen and my head hurts. My hopes for life with Christian were foolish at best.

'I was the only one in love. It was all fucking..only fucking'. I remind myself, which hurts more than anything else. In the back of my mind, I know I did the right thing by leaving. But it doesn't take away from the fact that this hurts. Far more than anything I ever thought I could feel. I still feel like a failure. Like I wasn't able to "reach" my fifty.

I feel myself start to bubble up with a little anger again. I remember when Taylor drove me home. He handed me a handkerchief and I could help but feel like this isn't the only time he's driven home a damsel in distress, broken-hearted over Christian Grey.

This is what my life has become. I have been feeling all of this on repeat every night since I left. On the third day Post-Christian, I got a lovely bouquet for roses, for a good first day and thanking me for the glider for him to build. I refused to reply. And an email on day four. I deleted it. I couldn't bear to read it. If I'm going to stick to my guns, I cannot fall for his fancy flowers and email "checking in". I refused to let him take me to Jose's gallery opening. I'd rather be car-less. So, I decided not to go after all. I'm a hot mess and the last thing I would ever want to do to Jose is to bring him down on this huge day for him. He understood when I called and was placated when I agreed to call him when I was ready to get out of the house for a lunch.

So again, here I lay. I should be at the gallery opening. I'm a shitty friend. 'Knowing your luck, Christian would be there anyway Steele,'. My subconscious remind me.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter aloud, to no one in particular. Maybe I've gone mad. Since my best friend is on some sandy beach somewhere enjoying herself and I'm here in bed I figure why not talk to myself. I grumble when I think about how I probably should at least get up to use the facilities. That won't go away, even though I've made just about everything else go away.

I get up and walk into the bathroom and as I turn the light on, I see myself in the mirror for the first time in who know's how long. My hair is a tangled mess. I look like a mixture of hung over and half dead. My eyes are sunken in and I look like a bus hit me. I've lost weight, I can just feel it. And of course see it. At least 10 pounds. Sheesh. 'So much for sticking to your guns and being okay, Steele'.

I grab my toothbrush and roughly brush my teeth. I'm now angry with myself. I'll be better tomorrow, just one more night of wallowing and then I'll be fine. I'll snap myself out of this. I don't know if I actually believe that, but I have to. I pull back my covers again and slip into bed. Looking over to the bedside table, I notice it's 10 pm. It's getting late and I'm tired. I also notice the birth control pills. Guess I won't need those anymore. I grab them and throw them, hard against the door and a couple pills escape and I break the plastic package on impact.

"Fuck you, Mr. Grey," I mutter as I pull the covers over my head and wait til morning comes. I at least have my job to get up for in the morning.